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The sight of it made his stomach tighten - no one in his limited circle of acquaintance would send an express unless something was seriously wrong.

James reached for the express with an unsteady hand.

The seal was unfamiliar - not his brother’s usual mark, but something more official looking.

Breaking it open, he began to read, his face growing paler with each line.

James read the express with growing disbelief.

His brother William, who had so recently inherited the estate their father had always dreamed of, lay dying at Longbourn.

The irony of it struck him - William had finally achieved everything their father had wanted for him, only to fall ill before he could truly become master of the estate.

The express had set everything in motion with dizzying speed.

Within hours, James had arranged leave from his studies, packed a small bag, and found himself in the carriage that had been sent for him.

Now, as it jolted over a pothole in the road, he tried to organise his thoughts about what awaited him.

Mr Edward Gardiner’s letter had been courteous and clear, explaining both William’s condition and the family’s situation.

But it was the additional details that made James uneasy - five daughters, one of whom had been about to marry William.

What would they expect of him? How should he conduct himself toward Miss Elizabeth, who must be feeling particularly awkward about his arrival?

The whole situation seemed designed to test every social skill he’d worked so hard to develop.

He had known about William’s impending marriage, of course - his brother’s letters had been full of his good fortune in securing both an estate and a bride.

But James hadn’t been invited to the wedding.

Second sons were expected to keep their heads down and study, not attend family celebrations.

That had always been made very clear to him.

The journey from London had begun by post-chaise, but now he found himself in what he supposed was technically his brother’s carriage, though he couldn’t quite think of it that way yet.

Everything about this situation felt unreal - his quiet life of legal studies suddenly interrupted by a summons to a house he’d never seen, to meet relatives he’d never known.

The carriage slowed as it rounded the final corner, and Longbourn came into view. James straightened his worn coat self-consciously, wishing he’d had time to retrieve his better one from the tailor.

The footman alighted smoothly to open the door and set down the step.

James stood slowly, brushing futilely at his coat- as if that would make a difference now.

His better one was still at the tailor’s, of course.

He had already gone over this twice in his head since the last milestone.

The thought persisted, as though his appearance were the only thing he could control.

He’d caught the sleeve on a door handle the week before, and there’d been no time to retrieve it before this hasty journey.

For a moment, he heard Billy’s voice in his head, making some cutting remark about his shabby appearance, before remembering with a jolt that his brother was too ill for such criticism now.

Drawing himself up to his full height - which, unlike Billy, he usually tried to minimise - James took a steadying breath and stepped down from the carriage. Whatever awaited him at Longbourn, he would face it with what dignity he could muster, worn coat and all.

A welcoming party stood arranged before the house - seven ladies and one gentleman, whom James assumed must be the Bennets and their aunt and uncle.

He tried to take in the scene as he approached: two older ladies, five younger ones varying in age and appearance, and a gentleman who carried himself with quiet authority.

At least the rain had stopped, though James promptly stepped into a puddle, mud splashing onto his freshly polished boots.

He tried not to wince at this fresh indignity.

The gentleman - Mr Gardiner, as he introduced himself - stepped forward to greet James warmly.

The introductions began, and James did his best to keep track.

Mrs Gardiner and Mrs Bennet were easily distinguished, the latter being somewhat older and more elaborately dressed.

But the five daughters presented a greater challenge.

Their names blurred together as Mr Gardiner made the introductions, and James found himself wondering which of these poised young ladies had been intended as his brother’s bride.

One sister was particularly handsome - Miss Bennet, he thought he heard, though he couldn’t be certain.

Then there was Miss Elizabeth Bennet, who must be his brother’s intended, though he wasn’t sure if she was the one in the black dress with the dark blue shawl or the one with the striking dark eyes.

The other sisters’ names - Mary, Catherine, and Lydia - passed by in a blur.

He resolved to address them all as “Miss Bennet” until he could sort out which was which, hoping he wouldn’t be called upon to distinguish between them too often in company.

Mrs Bennet took charge immediately, ushering him into the house with a stream of solicitous chatter. “My dear Mr Collins,” she beamed, her earlier grief seemingly forgotten, “what a pleasure to have you with us at last.”

“You must be chilled from your journey. Some hot soup perhaps? Or Cook has just finished the most delightful chicken pies. And of course, some wine to warm you…” She continued without waiting for his response, steering him toward a comfortable chair by the fire.

Before James quite knew how it had happened, he found himself settled in the warmest spot in the room, a bowl of steaming soup, a generous slice of pie, and a glass of wine arranged before him.

Such attention was entirely foreign to his experience - his modest means in London usually limited him to whatever his landlady provided.

Mrs Bennet hovered nearby, ensuring he was properly served, until finally, when he had finished, she instructed one of her daughters - he thought it might be Miss Mary - to show him to his room.